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My throat tightened, and I toasted again to carve Gabriel’s lopsided grin into my memory.
There was a beat of silence, and then Jackson spoke again, with somehow even more weight to his tone.
“To Caroline.”
Caroline sat ramrod straight. But Jackson didn’t say more. Just the nod toward her and the small toast said it all—how grateful he had become for her. For coming to her senses and being brave enough to do something about it. For trusting the Devils when she had no reason to. For standing up and saving Mason. For making sure Gabriel didn’t die in vain.
My hand found hers, and I squeezed it reassuringly. That’s my girl.
Sam got up—with a bit of support from Jackson—to move her seat next to Caroline’s. I let her off my lap. She immediately got emotional when Sam put an arm around her shoulders and said, “Welcome to the Devil’s Luck, Caroline.”
To that, everyone toasted again, muttering or smiling genuine approval—a formal acceptance, no initiation necessary. She’d more than proved herself worthy just by shooting Vane’s dick off postmortem.
Then Abel said, “Shit! Wait. No. Not yet she’s not.”
I immediately got defensive. “Why not?”
Abel grinned at my reaction, then tipped his head at the Wolverine patch tattoo on the back of her neck exposed by her lower ponytail. “Not until that ugly bitch is a Devil’s Luck skull and shamrock.”
Caroline’s hand flew to her neck, hiding the ugly mark, and she looked at me. “Is that offer still valid?”
I leaned forward to kiss her. “Any day, any time, baby.”
An hour later, most of the guys and some of the women were tipsy or drunk. I only had two beers—I had one goal in mind.
Take Caroline to my apartment.
She was deep in conversation with Sam now, a hidden chatty side of her exposed. Sam seemed to be coming around to getting along with the woman who caused her so much pain in the past. Suzie, Elle, and Carrie were more hesitant, but at least they weren’t shooting her nasty looks.
“Care,” I said. “You want to head to my place?”
Sam gracefully made her return to her spot next to Jackson as Caroline turned to me, surprised. “Back to the trailer?”
I laughed and shook my head. “No. That place’ll never see anyone’s ass ever again. I got a real place I want to take you to.”
She smirked. “Oh, no, poor Harlon’s legacy.”
“Tragic,” I agreed, pulling us to our feet.
We said our boisterous goodbyes and headed out to my bike. I patted the sleek body. “Missed ya, bud.” I got on and patted my seat behind me. “Saddle up, woman.”
Caroline climbed on, arms around my torso, and we pulled out of the gravel lot.
Both of us felt freer than we had in years.
CHAPTER 40
CAROLINE
Knox’s place looked only half lived in.
He flicked the lights to reveal a sparsely furnished living room and kitchen. The sink, a sight of surprising order in the chaos, had plates piled high, yet oddly clean. The leather couch showed the weight of time with dents in the cushions. The side tables’ previous owner must have owned dogs because the corners were chewed to hell. One had a battered lamp. The other had at least six empty shot glasses. And the TV resting on a coffee table and propped against the wall? Old enough it didn’t have a flat screen.
Basically, it was a bachelor pad that desperately needed a woman’s touch.
Knox scrubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “It’s, uh, under construction.”
I padded into the kitchen to open the fridge, hoping for some water. I wasn’t surprised to see the light was out, the beer cans and condiment bottles left in the dark. At least they were still cold—he was still paying the electric bill.